


Loyal Friends

by silvermoongirl10



Category: Inspector George Gently
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship, Gen, George is having a bad day, George worrying about John in the hospital, Hurt/Comfort, John accidentally makes it worse by forgetting to tell him something, John gets hurt and Taylor helps him, Leigh-Anne is George's backup to make sure John rests, Taylor being a good friend, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 20:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3087734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvermoongirl10/pseuds/silvermoongirl10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after series 6 (although Rachel isn't in this). It is the anniversay of the death of Isabella Gently, so today is not a good day for George. It only gets worse when he is annoyed at John and snaps at John and later regrets this. But later he hears John is hurt and in the hospital and all he wants is to apologise and he discovers just how much he values his friendship with John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyal Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Well this ended up being a lot longer than I expected. I hope this doesn't end up too long and boring for you, but more ideas just kept coming and I couldn't help but write them down. Anyway I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

**_‘One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives’ –_ ** **_Euripides_ **

* * *

 

It was a cold and dismal day that looked like it was going to rain soon. The weather appeared to reflect the mood of Inspector Gently, today was the anniversary of his wife’s death and all he wanted was to be home alone, but no he couldn’t do that. There were two protests scheduled for today and there was no hope of them happening peacefully. The two groups didn’t get along and so it was all hands on deck. The protests didn’t affect George apart from he was losing some of his Constables so they could try and attempt to keep the coming violence to a minimum. Also with no case (as they had solved it the day before) it was bound to be a boring day, at least John would be there to keep George from dwelling on his wife’s death. Well that’s what he thought until he walked into his and John’s office space to find none other than John stood beside his desk in his uniform with his helmet under one arm.

“What’s this then?” demanded George, “Did I miss the instruction that we would all be in uniform today?”

John looked up at him and frowned as he placed his helmet on his desk, “No…”

“So why are you in your uniform?” questioned George as he glared.

John twisted his hands together before he let them drop to his sides, “Well…with the protests and all…”

George stood in thought for a moment and commented in an unimpressed tone, “I was aware that Detective Constables and Sergeants were _not_ ordered to help with crowd control, but they were welcome to _volunteer_ to do so.” He then fixed John with a sharp glare.

“Yes…well…um…”

“Um what?” growled George.

“I volunteered,” said John, his eyes only meeting George’s for a second before he looked down at his feet. “It’s just as we’re gettin’ over-time pay ya see Sir, and with-”

“A little notice would have been _most_ appreciated!” interrupted George.

John hastily stepped forward gesturing to George’s desk, “I left a note on ya desk!”

“When was this?” frowned George.

“Three days ago!”

“Why did it have to be a note?! What was wrong with telling me _in person_?!”

“We were busy with the case!” exclaimed John wide eyed, “I knew ya only wanted to discuss the case, I figured if I left a note I wouldn’t be distractin’ ya from the case!”

George looked from his desk to John, “Well as you can see. I did not see your note.”

“That’s hardly my fault!” protested John.

George shook his head and pointed at his Sergeant, “It was _your_ responsibility to ensure I was aware of what was happening today and you couldn’t even do _that_.”

John gaped in shock, “It’s not like we have a case! I don’t see how me helpin’ with crowd control is goin’ to affect anythin’!”

“Nevertheless you _failed_ to inform your _superior officer_ what was happening. What if I arrived after you left hmm? I would have had no idea where you were in case I needed you for anything!” lectured George his tone getting angrier and angrier.

“I’m sorry Sir,” mumbled John, his eyes downcast. He never liked getting told off by anyone, but especially Gently. He looked up to the man and his approval meant everything.

“Yes well…nothing can be done now” sniped George as he turned to sit at his desk, and missed the barely concealed flinch John made. Once he had sat at his desk he looked up to find John stood in the same place. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” he snapped.

John jumped slightly; he opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but decided against it. Instead he nodded, picked up his helmet and left without another word. George watched his friend go, anger still burning through his veins. He began some paper work and stopped when he heard footsteps, expecting it to be John he looked up sharply with a glare etched on his face. Only to instead find Taylor stood in the doorway.

“Taylor aren’t you helping with crowd control today?” asked George, his tone calmer, nothing like it had been with John.

“Yes Sir” nodded Taylor, “I’m just lookin’ for Sergeant Bacchus is all Sir.”

“He’s already left,” commented George, irritation creeping back into his voice.

“Ah right” replied Taylor, he looked at the Inspector and knew Gently was annoyed that Bacchus was also helping with crowd control. So he said, “I know the Sergeant didn’t really want to do crowd control today Sir.”

George looked up with one eyebrow raised, “Your point Taylor?”

“It’s just…he’d be gettin’ over-time pay for it Sir, and he mentioned his daughter’s birthday was comin’ up and he wanted to get her somethin’ nice.” Taylor shrugged, “anyway I’d best be leavin’ as well Sir. See you tomorrow.” And with that Taylor left, only just catching Gently saying goodbye to him.

George sighed and rubbed his face, he knew he had been too harsh on John but he wasn’t in a good mind-set today and now he had gone and upset his friend. Something he could see when he was ‘speaking’ to John. When John was only trying to save up some money to buy Leigh-Anne a nice birthday present. Now he felt even worse as his anger seeped away. He nodded to himself when he made the decision to wait at the station for John to return, whether he had to stay late or not, so he could go for a drink with his friend and apologize for his harsh spoken words. Words that were not deserved. Over the years John had become very important to him and John’s loyalty couldn’t be questioned. _Especially_ after his actions in Durham Cathedral in trying to help him capture McGhee and getting wounded in the process.

With this plan forming in his mind George carried on working through his paperwork, occasionally looking across at John’s desk and wondering how his friend was faring with the violent crowds. He just hoped John came out of the whole thing unscathed.

* * *

 

John stood in a line with his fellow Police officers and stared down the road at the impending crowd that was steadily making its way towards them. He looked to his left and could only watch with an increasing sense of dread as the second crowd who was also protesting marched towards them. He silently groaned at the prospect of the two groups meeting at the crossroad where he and the other Police officers were standing. He watched with narrowed eyes as the crowds marched towards him from the left and straight ahead shouting out their various slogans, which mixed together in the cold biting air.

Normally he cursed the thick material that made his uniform, when the sun shined it could become unbearable. But today with the dreary weather he was able to keep cool which was one point of relief. He stood stock-still waiting for the moment that the almost peaceful atmosphere would end, with nothing to really do until the crowds were closer he reflected on the morning’s events.

The words George had snapped at him earlier played on repeat in his head. He sighed and silently berated himself for not making sure George had seen his note. Now that he thought about it, he should have known the note had not been seen. Because had George seen the note he would have asked John why he felt the need to volunteer for crowd control when he could stay at his desk safe from any possibility of harm. But he just hadn’t thought, the case had been a confusing one with many twists and turns that misled them with false leads. So he had been mentally exhausted and so it had slipped his mind to make sure George knew he wasn’t going to be in that day.

The more he thought about the situation and how unusual it was for George to be in such an irritated mood, he realized what the day was. He groaned that he had forgotten that today was the anniversary of the death of Isabella Gently. He had never met the woman, but he had known she had meant a great deal to George and from the stories George would tell he knew Isabella must have been a kind and generous person. He often wondered what it would have been like to meet Isabella. But he knew if she had not been killed that night, then George would not have travelled up North from London and John would not have met the man who had helped shaped him into a better person. Well he hoped had become a better person after all the guidance George offered. Whether it was welcome or not.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the shouting was closer than before. He mentally shook himself awake and grimaced seeing both crowds armed with rocks and other implements they could throw at the opposing crowd, or even the Police officers. It was times like this that made him angry. The Police were charged with ensuring the public remained safe, and most officers who joined the Police cared one way or another, just as he himself did. But there were members of the public who were determined to see them as the ‘bad guy’. This sentiment made officers like George sad to see the negative change, but it made people like himself angry and only more determined to prove that they were not the ‘bad guy’, but the people who were prepared to face the bad side of humanity and keep it away from the ‘good side’.

He looked to his right when he heard a sigh and smiled at Taylor. Taylor also turned to him and grimaced. “To think we could’a been safe and sound in the office, instead of standin’ here.”

“And where would the fun be in that?” Teased John, when in reality he would also rather be back sat behind his desk.

“You really are a strange one Sergeant. Volunterrin’ and all” commented Taylor looking at John with one eyebrow raised in mock seriousness.

“Ah well” shrugged John, “They were offerin’ over-time pay. How could I pass that up?”

“Wish I’d been given a choice” muttered Taylor good-naturedly.

John smiled, but then it faded, “Can’t imagine the Guv is happy with me right now.”

“He won’t stay mad for long,” commented Taylor.

John pulled a face, “I can only hope so.”

Then he and Taylor turned hearing a shout from one of the other Sergeants. The two crowds had merged and scuffles were beginning to break out, the line he and Taylor were stood in broke and they marched forward to where the crowds had met at the crossroad and went to try and end the fighting.

 John ended up stood between two men with his arms stretched out trying to keep the two men apart, his voice was beginning to go hoarse from all the shouting he was doing in trying to get himself heard. From out of nowhere a PC arrived and dragged one of the men away enabling John to grab the other one and forcibly removed the man from the fighting crowds. He handed him off to another PC who was waiting by a Police van, which would be driven back to the station once it had been filled.

From the sidelines he could observe the fighting and drew in a deep breath preparing himself to enter the fray once again. Before he could, the rocks he spotted earlier began to be thrown and the fighting seemed to get worse.

Seeing that backup would be needed he turned back to the PC at the van and pointed to the van. “Get on the radio and call for backup! We can’t control ‘em with just us!”

“Yes Sergeant!” called the PC before he climbed into the van and grasped the speaker of the radio.

Knowing that backup would soon arrive John marched back into the fighting and hoped that it would be resolved quickly with few injuries.

* * *

 

George had decided to take a break from his paperwork and finding the office too quiet he decided to take a walk around the station. While there were people busying about, it was nothing like the usual hustle and bustle that he usually associated with the station.

He turned a corner and was met with a frantic scene. Police Constables and Sergeants were hastily grabbing their helmets and were rushing out of the doors at a break neck speed. He turned to see the Desk Sergeant barking out orders from behind his desk. Once the big room had been cleared of uniformed officers he wandered over to the desk.

“What’s this then?” he asked as he leaned on the desk and gestured to the now empty room.

“Backup was called in for the crowd control situation Sir,” replied the Sergeant.

George paused and thought of Taylor and John who were out there facing the crowds. “It’s bad then?”

“Quite bad Sir” nodded the Sergeant.

George’s eyes widened at the short reply, then he wiped the surprised expression off his face and said, “I’ve got two of my officers over there, Police Constable Taylor and Detective Sergeant Bacchus, would you keep me informed of the situation?”

The Desk Sergeant nodded, “O’ course Sir. I’ll let you know when they come back.”

“Thank you” replied George, he then turned and made his way back to his desk. His thoughts swimming with what could be happening where Taylor and John were and if they would come back unscathed or with cuts and bruises. He refused to think of either of them being any worse than having cuts and bruises.

Walking through the office he first passed Taylor’s desk and then walking through the second door he passed John’s desk. He paused and then moved so he was stood behind John’s desk. He picked up the lone framed photograph and, despite the date and the subsequent anniversary, he had to crack a smile seeing the photo. It was John holding up Leigh-Anne and they were both laughing, he had taken the photo when John had invited him to join he and Leigh-Anne at the beach. Leigh-Anne had her arms wrapped around her father’s neck and her head leaned against her father’s. John and Leigh-Anne had been running about laughing (and making George laugh doing so) when John had surprised Leigh-Anne by picking her up around the waist and hoisting her up and twirled her around. It was one of the few times John had laughed completely carefree, surprising George and making him again thankful for talking to Lisa about letting John see Leigh-Anne more.

He replaced the photo and walked back over to his desk and sat and thought about how he really did miss having John sat at his desk talking about whatever was on his mind. While it usually annoyed George, he had to admit, when the annoying conversations weren’t there. He missed them.

Detective Sergeant John Bacchus; his colleague, his best friend and in some ways his surrogate son; had truly gotten under his skin. So the thought of anything happening to his Sergeant churned his stomach, so he hoped John came out of the whole situation unharmed. He also hoped that John would let him apologize for his attitude earlier, knowing John he would either forget the whole thing or just tell George all was forgiven before George even said one word of his apology. His words that morning were uncalled for and John deserved the apology, even if he hadn’t volunteered for the extra money to get Leigh-Anne a nice present George had no right to snap at him.

* * *

 

John was panting and sweat was forming on his forehead. It had been half an hour since the fighting broke out and backup and arrived ten minutes ago. But there didn’t seem to be an end to the stream of people in the two protest groups. Not long ago he had spotted Taylor sporting a bloody nose, once he had checked his friend was alright he continued to try and bring some sort of order to the crowds.

It was then he saw a particular protester, a mountain of a man, with thick blonde hair and big muscly arms. The man had just knocked a young PC to the ground and was just about to stamp down hard on the young lad’s leg when John lunged at him. While he didn’t knock the protester over, he did unbalance him enough so his foot didn’t come down on the PC’s leg. The young PC appeared to be winded so another PC stepped in to help the lad to his feet and guided him over to one of the vans. Once seeing the lad was safe John returned his focus on the protester. He began to drag the man over to the vans so he could be transported back to the station, but the man wasn’t having it.

“Come on!” ordered John frustrated, “Ya can’t expect to get away with hittin’ a Police Constable!”

“He _deserved_ it!” thundered the man as he struggled in John’s grasp.

“I doubt that!” scoffed John, “ _He_ was the one tryin’ to bring peace and order. _You_ were the one distruptin’ everythin’!”

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere!” protested the man as he fought harder against John.

“Well tuff ya goin’!” barked John, he tried to push the man forward but that was the last straw for the protester.

The next thing John knew he was lying flat on his back on the cold concrete ground with the protestor standing above him grinning. He distantly heard Taylor shouting his name, and tried to sit up but suddenly punches and kicks began to rain down on him. His helmet came off his head and he brought his arms up to try and protect his head. He curled up in a ball to try and protect himself, but it only left his right side open to the man’s attacks.

He faintly heard Taylor shouting his name louder over all the other shouting officers and protestors and he heard a sharp whistle sounding. He dimly recalled that it meant fighting was getting serious and that officers needed assistance. He wondered who needed help and tried once again to stand to help but was pushed down so hard he heard his head connect with the ground there was a sharp pain in his head and then he knew nothing more.

* * *

 

Once Taylor saw John get pushed to the ground he hastily tried to force his way through the crowd to get to his friend. But the crowd was so bunched up he couldn’t get through. He called John’s name and could only watch as John tried to sit up only to be pushed down and then get punched and kicked. He blew his whistle and began shouting John’s name again gaining other Constables’ and Sergeants’ attentions. Together they all forcibly pushed through the crowd.

Once again John tried to get up but was pushed down so hard Taylor could see his friend lost consciousness as soon as his head connected with the ground. This gave Taylor a further sense of urgency. As other officers brought the protestor under control he knelt down beside John.

John was limply lying on his left side with a cut on the left side of his forehead, that was bleeding enough for Taylor to see the blood trickle out of the cut and drop immediately to the concrete ground. He placed a hand on John’s right shoulder and gently shook his friend.

“John? Can ya hear me John?” he called leaning over John’s head. With no reply he looked around and saw his fellow officers clearing a path between he and John and the vans. So he stooped and with one arm under John’s knees and his other arm around John’s back he lifted his friend up and carried him to the safety of the vans.

Knowing that ideally he should have waited for an ambulance, he carefully carried John over to the pavement and laid him down and knelt beside John. A PC, who Taylor vaguely remembered whose surname was Samson, wandered over and handed Taylor John’s helmet, he nodded his thanks and then said “Call an Ambulance would ya?”

“Don’t need ta,” commented Samson, at Taylor’s confused look Samson continued gesturing to John. “He’s not the only one hurt. Someone radioed for a few Ambulances to get the injured officers out of ‘ere”.

Taylor nodded and took off his jacket before folding it up and gently placing it under John’s head. He felt something trickling from his nose and wiped his hand across his face to find a streak of blood on his hand.

“Ya better get checked out and all” said Samson, from where he was stood guarding Taylor and Bacchus, ensuring none of the remaining protestors got any ideas to attack them.

Taylor shook his head, “Nah I’m fine. It’s nothin’. Just took a punch is all.”

Samson shrugged, “Ya choice.”

They remained in silence, with Samson watching over them Taylor remained focused on John who had not regained consciousness. Using his handkerchief he tried to stem the bleeding of the cut John received on his forehead, but before long his once pristine white handkerchief was stained red. He looked up hearing the shrill ringing of five arriving Ambulances; he looked back down hearing a soft groaning noise. It appeared the shrill ringing was bringing John back to consciousness.

Taylor leaned over and softly patted John’s shoulder, “John can ya hear me?”

“Ugh” groaned John as his eyes flickered open, blinking against the sharp sunlight.

“Ya alright John?” asked Taylor, John tried to lift a hand to touch his head but Taylor gently pushed John’s arm back to the ground.

“M’head. S’killin’ me” muttered John.

“I’ll bet” chuckled Taylor weakly. He was still concerned for his friend, but he was relieved to see his friend awake and talking.

Soon John was bundled onto a stretcher fading in and out of consciousness, which according to the paramedics was normal after suffering a knock to the head. Before Taylor climbed into the Ambulance to sit beside John he turned back to Samson.

“Radio the station would ya? And let the Desk Sergeant know Detective Sergeant Bacchus has been taken to the hospital and that I’ve gone with him would ya? He’d probably like to know where we’ve gone” he said.

Samson nodded his head in agreement and jogged over to one of the many Police cars in the area. Before the Ambulance doors were shut Taylor looked out and could finally see the situation being brought under control.

* * *

 

George was sat at his desk just twiddling his thumbs. He’d finished all his paperwork and was bored and trying not to think on his wife’s death. On a normal day he could have gone home with no case to solve, but today he was waiting for John to return so he could apologize. The ringing of his desk telephone interrupted his thoughts.

“Gently”

_“Sir, this is Sergeant Darrel, ya asked me to keep you informed of PC Taylor and DS Bacchus,”_ said the voice on the other end of the phone.

“Ah yes!” responded George as he sat himself up in his chair, “Are they on their way back then?”

_“Err… not exactly Sir”_

George frowned, “And what is that supposed to mean Sergeant?”

He was not comforted when he heard Darrel sigh. _“The fighting got serious Sir, as you know from backup bein’ needed. Well…to cut a long story short Sir, both PC Taylor and DS Bacchus have been taken to the local hospital Sir.”_

“Are they accompanying anyone else there?” asked George in the brief hope that neither of his men had been injured.

_“Only PC Taylor Sir, he’s gone with DS Bacchus who was injured.”_

“Thank you Sergeant” replied George quietly before he hung up the phone. He sighed and looked over at John’s desk. Lately nothing had been easy for he and John. Quickly he gathered up his coat and his car keys and made his way out of the station.

He prayed that John was not seriously injured, he sighed thinking that it had to be today of all days that John was taken to hospital. On this day he had lost his wife and he truly hoped that he would not lose John on this date as well. It would be bad enough if he lost John, but on the same date as he lost his wife would just make it all the more worse.

As he jogged down the main entrance steps he saw, what must have been protestors who had been arrested, being shuffled out of vans and marched to the desk. He stopped for a moment and wondered as he looked at them, which one, or more of them, had injured John badly enough that he needed to go to the hospital and made Taylor accompany John there. He shook himself out of his thoughts and made his way over to his car, he had more pressing matters to attend to than wonder who had been responsible for his Sergeant’s injuries. There was time for that later when John could tell him exactly who it was.

He arrived at the hospital and marched down the corridor, he didn’t bother to stop at the main desk as further down the corridor he could see a bunch of uniformed officers sat on chairs. As he approached his footsteps caused the men to turn and look at him. One of them stood with his jacket in his hands and George smiled at Taylor.

“You alright?” he questioned noting the darkened and scabbed over blood around the lower half of Taylor’s face.

“Oh me I’m fine Sir” assured Taylor with a shrug, his fingers playing with the collar of his jacket. “How’d ya get here so fast Sir? I didn’t even get ta call ya and let ya know about Sergeant Bacchus.”

George shrugged lightly, “I had the Desk Sergeant keep me informed about you two, so once he heard you were coming here with John he called me to let me know.”

“Ah right” nodded Taylor.

George paused for a moment and assured himself that apart from what was once a bloody nose Taylor was fine. “So what happened to John? And how is he?”

Taylor sighed, “He got beat up by a protestor, the Doc reckons he’s got bruised ribs on his right side and a knock ta the head has given him a concussion and a cut to the forehead.”

“He’s going to be alright though?” asked George as he attempted to keep the desperate edge out of his voice, remembering all to clearly the last time John had been in hospital after that fateful day in Durham Cathedral.

Taylor nodded, “Doc said they’ll keep him overnight, but he’ll be fine just with a headache for a day or two.”

George sighed in relief and sat down in the chair beside Taylor as they waited for the Doctor. Ten minutes later Taylor sat up straighter when a Doctor walked towards them, this told George that this was the Doctor who was caring for John. He and Taylor got to their feet and listened to the Doctor explain that John was still slipping in and out of consciousness but he was more aware of what was going on and tomorrow he could go home, but someone would have to stay with him for a few days while his ribs healed enough for him to move without it hurting.

“I’ll stay with him,” commented George, the Doctor nodded and was about to walk away when George added, “Can he have visitors?”

The Doctor paused in thought, “As long as you let him rest then I don’t see why not.”

George nodded his thanks and then he and Taylor wandered down the corridor until they found the room in which John had been put in. George looked at Taylor and could see the PC was tired and needed to go and get some rest.

“Go on back to the station to check in and then go home and get some rest Taylor,” ordered George.

“Are ya sure Sir?” asked Taylor.

“Of course I am, after the day you’ve had you need some rest before you’re back at the station tomorrow” replied George.

Taylor nodded and with one more look at John to ensure his friend was alright, he then turned and smiled at George and then he left the room. George watched Taylor leave and then sat in the chair beside John’s bed.

He sat back in the chair and looked at his friend, John could have been sleeping peacefully except for the bandage wrapped around his forehead to keep the gauze over his cut in place ruined the peaceful image. While John wasn’t pale, the bandage still made him look a little pale due to it contrasting with his dark hair. As he watched his friend John’s eyes flickered open as he groaned.

“John?” asked George as leaned closer.

John turned his head and blinked, “Sir?”

“Glad to see you’re alright” smiled George,

“Just about” grimaced John.

“Do you remember what happened?” asked George concerned that with the concussion John might still be a bit confused.

“Yeah” murmured John, “also remember the Doc talking to me, and about how someone needs to stay with me for a few days. Dunno whose gonna do that.”

“I will be” responded George, he pretended not to notice the surprised look on John’s face.

“Really? Ah ya don’t need ta do that Sir!” John hastily assured George.

“Why not?” asked George wondering why John reacted the way he did.

“I don’t wanna bother ya,” responded John not meeting George’s gaze.

George rested a hand on John’s arm. “It’s no bother for me John, and you’re my friend of course I’d be there to help you.”

John nodded his head and then grimaced at the pain it caused. He then looked over George’s shoulder still not able to meet the other man’s gaze, “I’m sorry about earlier Sir. I didn’t mean to forget to tell you about me volunteerin’ for crowd control.”

“Oh John” sighed George, “I’m the one who should apologize not you. I over reacted. And I’m very sorry for the way I reacted this morning John.”

“Ah ya don’t need to apologize Sir” assured John, finally moving his gaze so he looked George in the eye.

“No I think I do. And to make sure you take it easy for the next couple of days I’ll take a few days leave and I’ll help you out.” Said George and the look he gave John told the younger man that he was not to argue.

John sighed, “If ya sure Sir.”

“Of course I’m sure,” commented George, he saw John’s eyes flickering closed. So in a rare show of comfort he reached out a hand and rested it gently on John’s forehead. “Get some rest John.”

John said nothing but his features relaxed and when his eyes slipped shut they stayed closed and then his breathing evened out. George sat back in his chair and smiled; while John could infuriate him he also couldn’t imagine solving cases without the young Sergeant. John remained asleep for the remainder of visiting hours, but George did not move from the chair until the end of visiting hours. He had been contented to watch over his friend. Today, for a short period of time he had been unsure of John’s condition and one thought had run through his mind and terrified him.

_What if?_

What if John had been injured worse?

What if he hadn’t survived?

What would George have done then? Without his Sergeant and friend? And on the same day his wife had died. He didn’t know how much longer he would have been able to continue as a DCI. He would have had to remain at his desk looking at John’s knowing his friend would never sit there again as another DS would have been brought in to replace John. George knew if the worst had happened, and a new DS would have sat at John’s desk, the new DS would never have been able to replace John for him. So he was very glad and relieved to know that by the end of the week John would be back at his desk helping him solve cases. Just the way George liked things.

* * *

 

It had been three days since John had been injured and George had come to stay with him for the past two days. John had been moaning and griping. But George hadn’t taken it personal. John never liked having to sit still, he was always on the move and with no case to keep his mind active it was no wonder he was getting bored and moaning. There was only so many hours that people like John were able to do nothing but watch telly.

So George came up with a plan.

He left John in an armchair front of the telly with a sandwich and a glass of water on a small table next to him and told him he’d be back within a couple of hours.

An hour and a half later George returned, he walked through the living room door which faced the back of John’s armchair. At the sound of the opening door John’s head snapped around to face him to look at him as he entered the small room. George had to wince in sympathy seeing the pain that flashed across John’s face as the quick movement aggravated his sore head.

“Thought ya’d gone back home” said John, turning himself slowly so he could better face George.

“Now would I do that after I said I’d be back?” questioned George with his arms crossed in front of him.

“Wouldn’t have blamed ya, I’ve been right miserable with ya the past two days” replied John as he scraped a hand across his face.

“I understand John” smiled George; “The reason I went out was to get something for you.”

“What?” questioned John, his interest piqued he stood from his armchair slowly and braced an arm on it. While he was getting better his ribs still hurt him.

“This” grinned George as he stepped to the side.

John frowned in confusion, but then a huge grin lit up his face, for behind George in walked Leigh-Anne carrying a small bag.

“Daddy!” greeted Leigh-Anne happily.

“Oh come ‘ere pet!” grinned John as he lent down on his knees slowly. He probably shouldn’t but he didn’t care. His daughter was here and it wasn’t even the weekend and it wasn’t his weekend with her either.

Leigh-Anne dashed forward dropping her bag at George’s feet, but as she got closer to her father she slowed down and gave her father a gentle hug. Nothing like tight clinging ones she usually gave. The hugs John always looked forward to when he picked Leigh-Anne up from Lisa’s.

 “What’s the matter pet?” asked John as he pushed Leigh-Anne back a little with her shoulders so he could see her face.

“Mr Gently said you’ve got hurt ribs. I didn’t wanna hurt ya daddy,” replied Leigh-Anne, her hands gripping onto her father’s shirt as if she was afraid this was a dream and her father was still in the hospital with worse injuries.

“Ah I’m alright sweetheart” comforted John, he pulled his daughter closer to him and rubbed one hand up and down her back and his other hand gently pulled through her hair. Leigh-Anne then wrapped her arms around John and nuzzled her head into the crook of John’s neck.

Leigh-Anne moved her head back a little and with one hand reached up to softly touch the bandage still around John’s head.

“Ya really alright daddy?” she asked, concern filling her eyes.

“I’m sure” smiled John; he got to his feet stiffly and made a soft groan.

“Sit down daddy, ya need to rest” commanded Leigh-Anne, her hands on her hips and the look on her face telling John not to argue.

“Yes nurse” chuckled John. He walked over to the sofa and slowly lowered himself onto it. Within seconds Leigh-Anne was settling onto the sofa beside John when he picked her up and placed her in his lap. John smiled cheekily down at Leigh-Anne and began tickling her.

“Daddy!” shrieked Leigh-Anne trying to push her father’s hands off, but she remained gentle not wanting to hurt her father. “ _Daddy ya tickling me!”_

“Oh am I?” laughed John.

_“Daddy!”_

George laughed at the sight in front of him and looked on happy to see John’s mood immediately brighten at the sight of his daughter. George knew he was right to talk to Lisa and have Leigh-Anne come and stay for a few days, not only would it put John in a good mood but Leigh-Anne just might be able to talk her father into sitting still and resting.

* * *

 

That evening found George sat in the armchair and John lying on his back and stretched out on the sofa with Leigh-Anne snuggled into his uninjured side. John had his left arm wrapped around Leigh-Anne and she was fast asleep with her face pressed up against her father’s chest. George looked over and saw John’s eyes were also closed. Deciding that he might as well go to bed he turned off the telly and he also decided he would not wake the sleeping father and daughter. So he took a blanket from the headrest of the armchair and shook it out and then laid it out over John and Leigh-Anne, he also tucked the blanket around them. He smiled down at them and as he was about to turn off the lamp he turned back when a voice whispered “thank you”. He turned and smiled down at John, he knew he wasn’t being thanked for the blanket.

“I just thought you’d listen more to your daughter than you would me,” grinned George as he gave John a knowing look.

John chuckled, “Ya probably right.”

“Probably?” questioned George with one eyebrow raised.

“Alright. Ya _completely_ right” smiled John; he looked down at Leigh-Anne and brushed some of her hair out of her face. “For whatever ya said to Lisa to get her to agree to this, thanks.”

“No thanks necessary” shrugged George, then he smiled and added, “But to thank me you could listen to me and Leigh-Anne so you get better quicker so we can go back to solving cases.”

“Right Guv” smiled John, he then yawned which prompted George to tuck the blanket around him again.

“Get some sleep John,” he softly said.

John nodded and settled himself into the softness of the cushions still with his left arm around Leigh-Anne.

“Nigh’ George” yawned John.

By the time George reached the doorway he looked back to see John had already fallen asleep again.

“Goodnight John” he smiled. He then turned off the lamp and made his way up the stairs to the guest room. Not for the first time he was glad his friend would be alright in a few days and that Lisa agreed to Leigh-Anne coming to stay for a few days.

* * *

 

During the night Leigh-Anne woke up and smiled up at her father’s face, she reached out her right arm and hugged her father’s waist. She had been really worried when she had heard her father had been hurt so when Mr Gently came to ask if she could come and stay she had been relieved when her mother had said yes. She could, for herself, assure herself that her father was alright.

“Love ya daddy,” she whispered before she kissed his cheek and settled back to go back to sleep.

John flickered his eyes open and kissed the top of Leigh-Anne’s head, “Love ya to sweetheart.”

Despite getting injured and the resulting headache and his aching ribs, making him miserable having Leigh-Anne curled up into his side was the best medicine he could ever had. He’d always be thankful to George of thinking of getting Lisa to let Leigh-Anne come and stay. He hugged Leigh-Anne a little closer to him and then settled back down to sleep.

Friendship really did see people through some of the toughest times people could face and John had found a good friend in George Gently.

**The End.**


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